


i'd jump in front of a train for you

by marvelleous



Series: tumblr prompts [1]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-26
Updated: 2017-01-26
Packaged: 2018-09-19 23:55:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9466334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marvelleous/pseuds/marvelleous
Summary: melinda is injured on a mission and phil reacts as one might expect.





	

**Author's Note:**

> written in 2015 for a tumblr prompt from anonymous: mission goes a bit wrong and afterwards they cuddle for comfort.

“What were you thinking?” Phil questions harshly as he drapes his jacket over Melinda’s shoulders and puts his arm around her like the couple they’re supposed to be playing. His hand clamps down against her shoulder where a bullet is lodged from the shot she took for him.

“I was thinking that you were in the best position to shoot at those guys from, so I moved over,” she says, clenching her jaw as he digs the heel of his palm into her wound to try and stem the blood flow. They’ve just escaped the fancy hotel where their mission went south and their safe house is twenty minutes away.

“It was also the best position to get shot at,” he hisses back as they reach the silver sedan on the sidewalk that blends in perfectly with the other cars parked on the street. She glares at him when he pulls the passenger’s side door open for her and reluctantly slides in, her hand replacing his against the bleeding hole in her shoulder after she’s safely strapped in. He slides into the driver’s seat and starts the car, speeding off down the road, shoulders stiff and entire body tense, hands clenched tightly around the wheel.

“I know,” she grunts out, beginning to feel a little light headed from the blood seeping out between her fingers. She presses her palm against the site of the injury, but her movements are growing weaker with each movement that passes by.

“That was stupid,” he shouts in frustration, and if he wasn’t driving, she surmises that he would probably throw his arms exasperatedly into the air, because Phil’s always had a flair for the dramatics.

“Saved our asses didn’t I?” she scoffs, the annoyance in her voice evident. She suppresses a shiver, because it’s cold in the car but she really can’t do anything to warm herself up. “Could you turn the aircon down, it’s freezing in here.”

Phil immediately snaps his attention to her in concern;

One, because Melinda never complains, not when they were holed up in an ice cave in greenland after losing communication with their team, not when they’d had to trek twenty miles and she had two broken ribs, not ever.

Two, because she’s actually visibly shuddering and her face is ridiculously pale and the light is making it hard to see but her lips look like they’re purple and ten minutes away from turning blue.

And three, because he’s already got the heat turned the entire way up.

She’s still sitting upright, staring straight forward, her hand pressed up against her shoulder, but she’s losing too much blood and he slams his foot down on the accelerator, tearing through the streets in an effort to reach their destination faster. The twenty minute drive is completed in seven and he parks the car into the garage before immediately hopping out and rushing to her side. She’s still conscious, but barely as he undoes her seatbelt and lifts her into his arms, pressing roughly down on her shoulder as he carries her into the house and sets her gently down onto the couch. Grabbing a medical kit from the cabinet standing against one wall, he hurries back to her and peels his jacket off from her body, cringing at how sodden it is from her blood.

His hands shake as he prepares a syringe full of a blood clotting agent that will hopefully stop or slow the bleeding down. He holds it in his left hand as he grabs a pair of tweezers with his right, ripping the bullet from where it is lodged within her. The blood begins to flow at an increased rate, and he quickly injects the clear liquid in the needle into the opening, letting it take effect before grabbing a suture kit to stitch up the wound. As his hand grabs her arm for leverage, he can feel the bump of the scar from the bullet she took back when they were under attack from Hydra, and the guilt within him wells up as he pulls the wound close with the needle and thread.

She groans and he knows how painful it is because he didn’t have time to administer any type of anaesthetic - he’s too afraid that she’ll bleed out on him. She’s semi-conscious, and when he’s done with stitching her up, he presses a gauze to the injury site, taping it to her shoulder and hoping that the blood is clotting and the stitches are holding and that the bandage won’t soak through in a matter of minutes. Satisfied that she’s stable for now, he hurries over to crank up the heating, chest contracting painfully at her shuddering form on the couch, and the small groans of pain she emits as she tries to bring herself back to full consciousness.

It’s so hot in here, and he strips off his blood stained tie, shirt and undershirt, leaving him naked from the waist up. He fusses over her and checks on her bandage as she opens her eyes to blink wearily up at him, the glare intense despite the state that she’s in.

“I’m fine Phil, you’re smothering me,” she says, and her voice is so weak it hurts him to hear it. He ignores her protests as he lifts her up in his arms again, careful to not aggravate her wound as he walks them to the bedroom. It’s even warmer in here than it was downstairs and he’s starting to sweat a little as he sets her down onto the bed and heads to the closet to find them some shield issued sleeping clothes. He’s about to grab her a singlet and a pair of pants, because there’s no way he can put a shirt on her without putting a strain on the stitches, when he realises his hands are still covered in her blood. He grabs a couple of tissues from the nightstand and wipes them off as best as he can before turning back to her.

She’s sitting up against the edge of the bed where he left her, and she rolls her eyes at him as he climbs on behind her and pulls down the zipper slowly, revealing the smooth skin on her back inch by inch. He makes sure that his fingers don’t linger any longer than necessary, and swallows a groan when he realises her bra is covered in blood as well and he’ll have to remove it and clean her off before he can dress her.

He keeps his gaze averted as he strips her, removing her weapons and communication devices before leaving her sitting there in no more than a pair of panties when he goes into the bathroom to grab a towel. He drenches it in scalding hot water and squeezes most of the liquid out before returning and beginning to clean off the now dried blood. After he’s satisfied that she’s thoroughly clean, he checks the bandage, twice, before heading back into the bathroom to clean himself off. It’s entirely awkward that he’s just left her there, practically naked on the bed, but he doesn’t want to get any of the blood back on her, so the three minutes he spends scrubbing himself down in the shower is absolutely mandatory.

He dries himself off hastily and wraps a towel around his waist, quickly ducking out into the bedroom and pulling on a pair of grey sweat pants perfect for sleeping in before removing the towel and grabbing a change of clothes for Melinda. She’s shifted so she’s lying back against the headboard, seemingly unbothered by her nudity, quickly typing on her phone - most likely to send a message to their team to let them know that they’re alive.

“You look better,” he says with a smile as he sits down on the bed beside her, setting the clothes down behind him.

“I’m fine Phil,” she says with an eyeroll. “You were just overreacting.”

He wants to shout that he wasn’t overreacting because she was shot and bleeding and of course he was panicking, but he wisely keeps his mouth shut about that because she looks unimpressed already.

“Come on, we don’t want to let you die of hypothermia,” he says as he gestures for her to lift her hips up so he can tug on the singlet for her from the bottom up. He frowns when she refuses to budge, and looks up to find her watching him with the corners of her mouth turned up.

“Well you’ll just have to warm me up then,” she says, patting “his half of the bed” in a gesture that he recognises well. With a wide smile, he helps her under the covers and returns the clothes to the cupboard. He flutters around, fixing things, before quickly heading downstairs to grab her a cup of hot tea, and more gauze and tape to change her bandage.

She holds the mug in one hand, slowly sipping from it as he changes her bandage, letting out a sigh of relief when he sees that the bleeding has slowed and there’s only a little seeping out from between the stitches. He replaces the gauze, taping it back into place and trailing his fingers gently over the edge of her old scar before pressing a soft kiss to her shoulder.

She smiles at him and sets the nearly empty mug down on the nightstand, cocking her head to the right side. He quickly clambers into the bed, slipping into the sheets next to her and letting out a sigh of content as she slots into his arms, resting her head against his shoulder, the heat from his skin warming her up.

“You can’t just go taking bullets for me Melinda,” he admonishes softly, hands settling over her waist. “What would I do without you hm?”

“Get killed,” she says humorlessly, shaking her head against his shoulder, and he knows that nothing he says will change her actions out in the field. They’ve always been like this, they work like this, they fit together well and he doesn’t think anything will shift the balance between them.

He rubs his cheek against the crown of her hair, holding her close. He’s so happy that she allows these embraces, this contact between them. That she said yes the day he told her he wanted to be more than just best friends and partners. He knows that she’s not interested in a second marriage, but they don’t need to be husband and wife to love one another unconditionally.

She drifts off in his arms and he allows himself to fall asleep soon after.

They awaken past noon the next day, and it isn’t the sunlight streaming through the open windows or the fact that their bodies are telling them they’ve had enough sleep. It’s the awkward cough from Bobbi and the three cheers from Skye, their two woman extraction team. Being the more mature of the two, Bobbi quickly leaves muttering something about packing things up for them. Skye however, lingers in the door with a grin plastered on her face, and Phil is totally expecting it when she walks up behind him as they’re boarding the quinjet, clapping him on the shoulder with a “Way to go AC.”


End file.
